Tomorrow morn I begin my bake-a-thon for Thursday, which, naturally, is going to look exactly like this Norman Rockwell painting.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, remember how you hated sitting at the kids table when you were a kid? You thought all the kewl stuff was happening at the grown up table. You really should give it another try this year because, chances are, nobody at the adult table is going to be wearing black olives on all of their fingertips, nor spew milk out of their nose from laughing at the guest seated next to them that farted because they were laughing at the guest seated next to them that farted. Turns out that all the fun stuff really is happening at the kids table. It also turns out that if your timing’s right, and you say the word underwear while seated at a table with four or more six year-olds, you can make milk come out of all of their noses.

Friday, I intend to spend the day in a pie induced coma, waking long enough to finish my Christmas shopping online, hence avoiding the crowds and the need to get dressed in anything with a waistband.

Copy Alerts recently notified me that some of my blog content had been ripped. So naturally, I followed the trail that led me to the offending site. Sure enough, word-for-word, there’s a post of mine. All 466 words. Copied. Verbatim. Well, except for the title, which they changed to The Risks of Tippling Water.

So I join their forum;

user name: pistblogger

pw: youreadouche

and I proceed to leave three comments exposing their thievery. I followed up with an e-mail, giving them notice that I intend to go after their host for copyright infringement if my content isn’t removed.

The next day I received an e-mail from Maura, one of their moderators, informing me that my comments had been rejected. Big surprise there, eh? Seems I hadn’t gone through the proper channel to report the abuse. Apparently I was supposed to contact their “Abuse Protection Team.”

Ironic, isn’t it, that a spam site that’s stealing content would reject comments because the rules weren’t followed.

Whilst I continue with my volley of e-mails with Maura, feel free to use my user name and pw to drop a comment on their forum. Maybe use their “suggestion” option to suggest that they write their own content.

We’ve all experienced it. You smell a woman’s perfume trailing three aisles behind her in the grocery store. It’s so heavy in the air that it permeates your nose and mouth and you fancy you can still smell her four hours later.

We are literally being bombarded with scent. There are body washes, body lotions, leave in conditioners, moisturizers, deodorants, feminine sprays……you name any part of the human body, and there’s a scent on the market developed especially for it. And then, to compound it further, we wear clothing that’s been washed and dried using lavender-vanilla detergent and orange-hibiscus fabric softener.

So, after applying all that, you spray on perfume as if it were the cherry atop a sundae.

Listen, perfume should make people want to draw closer, not run in the opposite direction. If you feel you need to bathe in the stuff, might I suggest actually bathing instead?

Here’s something that might put it into perspective for you. I want you to go to the refrigerator and take out anything that’s in liquid form. The milk, V8, OJ, that bottle of wine nobody liked and has been in the back of the fridge since last May, the soda, the tabasco, the Italian salad dressing. You get the picture. Now I want you to put a teaspoon of each of these liquids into a glass, stir it and drink. See how all of those flavors are competing with each other? Did you just throw up in your mouth a little? Good. That’s exactly how you smell when you top off your scented body wash and deoderant with 1/2 gallon of your favorite perfume.

I really don’t care if you’re buying it in the large economy size, or paying $3256.13 an ounce for it……it’s not my scent, and I don’t want to smell it three aisles away. Or worse yet, get trapped on a plane with you. I’d rather be stuck in an elevator with a dozen cigar touting chain smokers.

Lest you think I don’t like perfume, I assure you, I do. My current favorite is Design by Paul Sebastian. As much as I like this light refreshing fragrance, I don’t spray it directly on me. I spritz it into the air and walk through the mist.

I am one of the few females on the planet that loathes to shop. This works out better than you might think, because I’m also not fond of today’s mass produced products. They lack charm and character, and they most certainly lack durability.

I’ve always been drawn to vintage pieces, so I prefer to shop where these items are abundant….. estate sales and flea markets.

You’d be surprised at the things you find at these sales. A couple of years ago I found myself standing over a trunk full of brand-new, with tags, 1940’s side-striped cotton dish towels. I bought a dozen for $1 apiece and I’m still using them. The same goes for tablecloths; they just never wear out. The quailty of vintage linens far surpasses anything on the market today.

It saddens me that the women of past generations tucked all the “good stuff” away to use for a special occasion. And apparently there was never an occasion quite special enough. I don’t know whether they’d approve or not, but I use their “good stuff” everyday.

Our home is furnished with an eclectic mix of items from the 20’s through the 60’s. Most pieces are functional, but there are some that I keep around just because they make me smile. Here are just a few……

This old fish bowl probably dates from the 20’s or 30’s. I’m not particlularly crazy about keeping small caged pets. Fish rank among them. Seems to me they’d be far happier swimming in the wild, contributing to the food chain as nature intended. But it was too kewl not to use, so I put a ceramic “Made in Japan” fish in it.

This is a 1950’s Boxer TV Lamp. If you think it’s glowing eyes are creepy, you should see it at night.

This is a Zentih bakelite AM/FM radio. I suspect it’s from 40’s. Yep…it still works.

I have no idea who, or even what, these are, but I liked their smiling faces. Once upon a time they must have had lids of ceramic hair, and there’s a notch at the back of their heads for a spoon handle to rest. If anyone recognizes these characters I’d love to hear from you.

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Kewl Quote(s)

Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realise we cannot eat money.

If we did all the things we were capable of doing,
We would literally astound ourselves. -- Thomas Alva Edison

We are made of all those that have built and broken us.

Marriage is finding that one special person you
can annoy for the rest of your life.

There are two theories to arguing with a woman. Neither works.

Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.